


Settle

by Areiton



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Flashbacks, Friendship, Future Fic, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He’s so fucking tired of settling for what he can have and never asking for what he wants, and now--it’s too late.





	Settle

**Author's Note:**

> *clears throat* I don't even know, y'all. First attempt, be gentle, ect ect.  
> Enjoy! <3

The problem, Zach considers, with falling in love with your straight best friend is that they are in fact your _straight_ best friend.

 

It’s not a new thing--not his feelings, not Chris’s sexuality, not the utter ridiculousness of it all.

 

None of it was new.

 

But this--tonight--was.

 

Chris is laughing, and he doesn’t look like he has in the past, equal parts charming and bashful and a little insecure--the fucking trifecta that never failed to make Zach’s chest get a little tight and achy. No, tonight, he’s gorgeous, in a tailored black suit and a tie that he didn’t need Zach’s help to tie, and he’s fucking shining, so lit up with happiness that it’s actually painful, looking at him.

 

Zach drains his glass of champagne and Miles leans into him. “Easy, babe. It’s early.”

 

He bites his tongue so he doesn’t snap, but it doesn’t quite control the sharp look he gives the younger man. Miles’ smile goes brittle and he nods once, almost to himself, before he takes the empty and leaves him standing there, alone.

 

He knows Miles is pissed, knows even that he has every right to be--but he can’t bring himself to care right now. That will come later, when he soothes the younger man’s wounded ego and kisses him pliant, settles him in their bed.

 

For now, he snags another glass of champagne and watches the man of the hour.

 

The thing is--he never planned to love Chris. He never planned to _like_ Chris. They were similar, and forged a friendship based on necessity more than anything else, two sarcastic bastards too smart for their own good trying to find their big break.

 

And it was easy. He remembers that, more than anything. How _easy_ it was, to settle into friendship, to slide into each other’s life, to build a friendship on laughter and competition and the woes of a young actor.

 

It was so fucking easy, until he woke up to the sight of Chris, reading in his bed ( _Your couch sucks, Zachary. We’re getting a new one.),_ Zach’s glasses perched low on his nose and his mouth moving to shape the words as he read, almost like he needed to taste them, to savor them.

 

He was fucking gorgeous, sleep rumpled, skin warm, eyes so bright they were legitimately ridiculous. Chris blinked at him as he turned the page, and saw Zach watching him, and his smile spread wide and lazy. _Hey. You want coffee?_

 

Zach shook  his head, terrified to break the moment, murmured _read to me_ and Chris’s eyes had gone soft and fond.

 

He fell in love to the sound  of Fitzgerald, so fucking cliche he wanted to laugh.

 

That was years ago, before Trek, before Zachary left LA. Before he came out.

 

But he decided early, when the feeling still trembled new and terrifying, that it was best ignored. It got tucked into a box of bad ideas that shared space with impossible dreams.

 

And that was that. He settled into his place in Chris’ life, even as life changed around them--as they took bigger, better roles, as they dated. And it wasn’t _bad,_ exactly. He knew Chris was important, knew _his_ importance in the other man’s life. There were the easy years, living in each other's pockets, filming Trek and doing the press tours, when he couldn't imagine a life where Pine wasn't filling up his couch and texting him lunch plans and jokes, when he didn't trip over Chris’ shoes and books and _presence_ , so big it drowned out everything else.

 

He didn't want to imagine anything else.

 

But life changed and they changed, even when they didn't.

 

And he settled into that. Settled into a distant friendship that was built on whirlwind weekends spent watching trashy TV and covered in puppy hair and talking until too late at night. The rare time their schedules lined up and they could vacation together--they saw Karl that way, and for a week, Zach could pretend he wasn’t dating a model ten years younger, that Chris wasn’t getting serious with a girl Zach actually adored.

 

“You look like someone just shot your best friend,” Karl says now, leaning into the wall. Zach shoots him a bland stare, the kind that withers so many, and Karl smirks, swirls his scotch. “He’s looks good, though. Doesn’t he?”

 

“He looks perfect,” Zach says and he lets the truth into his voice. Because he is honest with Karl--needed to be honest with someone, and Karl never judged. Just listened with something like sympathy in his eyes and passed him more whiskey.

 

“You talk to him yet?”

 

Zach shakes his head. He’s talked to Chris for weeks, talked through every miniscule step leading up to this night. He didn’t need to talk to Chris. And he was pretty sure if he did, something extremely ill-advised would come out of his mouth.

 

“No.”

 

Karl is watching Chris, and he says, “You should tell him.”

 

Zach laughs at that. He doesn’t mean to, and he immediately regrets it, because Chris turns, that brilliant smile focused on him and shit--he’s going to come over here now. Zach curses and finishes his drink and Karl straightens as Chris approaches. “It isn’t fair to either of you to settle for less than everything, Quinto. Man the fuck up.”

 

“This is where you’re hiding!” Chris grins, snagging Zach’s empty and staring into it a little mournfully.

 

“I’m hardly hiding,” Zach sniffs and Chris rolls his eyes.

 

“Thought you decided to blow it off altogether, man.”

 

There’s something a little hurt in Chris’s eyes, something he doesn’t want to see, not ever, so Zach smiles.

 

“Bail on you? Never. You know that.”

 

It makes the tension in his shoulders ease and he can see Chris, his mind working and he panics a little. Zach nods to the balcony. “I’m gonna smoke before--”

 

Karl’s gaze goes sharp and questioning but this isn’t his to share. He pushes past both of them, and makes for the balcony, empty for a few minutes, and shakes out a cigarette.

 

He gets two drags on it and his breathing is almost steady when a big hand plucks it from his lips. He smiles, because this is so goddamn familiar it’s smile or scream. “Thought you quit.”

 

“Hi pot, meet kettle,” Chris says, deadpan. Zach snorts and takes the cigarette from Chris. This, too, is familiar, a calming rite that they started on the set of Trek, and continued for years, until Miles badgered him to quit. They smoke in silence, trading it back and forth until it’s gone and Zach watches Chris flick it off the balcony, watch it twist down, a tiny shooting star.

 

“You gonna tell me where you’re at, Zachary?”

 

_At your side. Where I belong._

 

“Where do you want me to be?” Zach asks, because if he can’t be at Chris’ side, he’ll settle for where Chris needs.

 

“With me,” he answers, promptly, without hesitation, and that’s a kick in the gut. “I need you tonight, man. C’mon.”

 

It hurts. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

 

The thing about falling in love with your straight best friend--aside from the whole, straight--is that it never stops aching. There is always this _want._ And even though he’s settled, knows his place in the dynamic of their friendship. Even though he knows his importance and his boundaries--even though he _chose_ this, took friendship because friendship with Chris was so much better than not having Chris at all--even though all of that was true, sometimes he wanted more.

Sometimes he ached with the need to tell Chris everything.

 

When Chris stared at him, like this--framed by their city, high on the success of his first screenplay, eyes shining with all the effervescent joy that Zach loved--it hurt to keep the words pressed back.

 

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” Chris asks, suddenly, and he can see in those bright blue eyes, all of it.

 

All of the friendship that settled between them, the years of laughter and frustration, of texts and drunk phone calls, of endless days filming and nights playing Scrabble that passed too fast.

 

Of Chris showing up with a bottle of wine and a truly ridiculous amount of chocolate, when Jon left him.

 

Of catching Chris when he stumbled, after his father’s funeral, holding him as he broke down in his driveway.

 

Of all the million little things that made up their friendship and every time Zach didn’t push for more, every time he settled for what they had, counted himself lucky because god, how could he expect more when he was already part of this brilliant life?

 

It’s all there, in shining eyes and a crooked smile, and--

 

“No.”

 

Chris blinks at him, confusion and the first hint of anger in his eyes. Zach pushes the words out before he can stop himself, before he can do what he’s always done.

 

He’s so fucking _tired_ of settling for what he can have and never asking for what he wants, and now--it’s too late. But.

 

“I never thought we’d be here. Not like this, anyway. I thought--” he hesitates for a moment and Chris shifts, closer. Just a little bit closer.

 

“What did you think?” he asks, his voice a whisper carried away by the summer wind.

 

“That when we got here, we’d get here together. Not with other people. Just us. Always thought just us is all we needed.”

 

Chris sucks in a breath and Zach can _feel_ the world cracking with that breath, separating them.

 

Behind them, the party swirls, and Sofia is in there, radiant and lovely and god, he’s actually doing this to her? To Miles? What is _wrong_ with him.

 

“Zach--”

 

“I’m tired of settling, Chris. I’m your best friend, and I’ve always been happy with that, because if I can’t have _you_ , I’ll settle for this.”

 

“Why--” Chris’s voice shakes and he tries again. “Why.”

 

Zachary shrugs. “I don’t want to settle anymore. Not without you knowing.”

 

Chris stares at him, and he feels a million miles away, and Zach knows how this plays out. He listened to Chris plan it, knows the script for the evening and even with his adlib, that's still the plan.

 

So he leaves, before he has to watch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He calls Miles, tells him it’d be best to get a hotel for the night. He has to deal with that, knows it’ll be messy as fuck--that Miles deserves better than what he can give, and the kid is amazing but even he won’t overlook Zach confessing his goddamn feelings to Chris.

 

But not right now. Right now, he wants to curl up with a bottle of wine and all the idiotic things he’s done in life.

 

Except.

 

Chris is sitting on his doorstep, tie loose around his throat, hair a mess from fingers running through it.

 

He looks like the Christopher Zach knows and loves, a younger, touchable version of the man he grew into.

 

There’s a box in his hand, a small black thing he keeps opening and snapping closed, as Zach walks up, slowly.

 

“Did you mean it?” Chris asks, opening the box, and staring inside.

 

He could dodge. Pretend he meant something else. Pretend he was drunk. Settle back into his role of friend and confidant, of the shoulder Chris always leans on.

 

It’s not a bad place to be.

 

“Yes,” he murmurs.

 

Chris snaps the box closed, and tilts his head back, staring up with eyes wide and desperate. “Say it.”

 

“Chris,” Zach starts and he surges to his feet, crowds up in Zach’s face, and demands it this time.

 

“ _Say it,_ Zachary.”

 

The words tremble between them, a command that feels more like a plea, and then he wipes them away with, “I love you.”

 

All of the tension drains out of Chris’s body and he makes this sound in his throat, a broken noise that makes Zach’s arms come up, close around his waist, tugging him closer as Chris buries his face in Zach’s neck.

 

“Chris, talk to me, babe. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

“I didn’t ask her,” he mumbles, and Zach almost sobs. For the first time in weeks, since the text that started all of this, he feels like he can breath.

 

“Why not?” he whispers, hardly daring to breath.

 

Chris pulls back and shrugs, looking impossibly shy. “I--I always thought we’d be there together, too.”

 

Zach doesn’t move. He’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating or very _very_ drunk.

 

Chris leans in, and presses the words to his lips, a kiss so gentle and chaste it almost doesn’t qualify. “I don’t want to settle anymore, Zachary.”

 

Zachary whimpers and Chris smiles against his lips, licks it from his mouth and tries to go for more.

 

He pouts, when Zach pulls away. Zach swallows his smile and tries not to feel Chris’ heavy gaze as he unlocks the door and then, sends a tiny smile over his shoulder. “You coming in, Pine?”

 

A grin meets him and Zach _knows_ they have shit to sort through, that this won’t be easy. But that’s for another night.

 

Tonight, he’ll take Chris, where he belongs.

 

Finally settled in Zachary’s arms.


End file.
